Handfuls of Hope
by Caligo Origuu
Summary: Everyone has regrets, things they wish that they could go back and change, do something different, do something better. What if they got their chance? A series of various characters and the things they might have changed. Anna, John, Gabriel. On hiatus pending inspiration.
1. Anna: Unexpected Miracles

DISCLAIMER: Supernatural does not belong to me. It wouldn't be half so much fun to watch if it did because no one would have gone to hell, there wouldn't be nearly as much turmoil between the brothers, and then where would we get our dose of angst?

SUMMARY/TEASER: Everyone has regrets, things they wish that they could go back and change, do something different, do something better. What if they got their chance? A series of various characters and the things they might have changed. Anna, John, Gabriel

RECOMMENDATION: If you like time-travel/fix-it fics, like this one, you should definitely read "It's All in the Details" by Colleen. It's amazing, one of my favorite Supernatural fanfics ever.

WARNINGS: Updates on this WILL be sporadic; my muses are fickle and I have 'Viera' and 'Giants' to work on too. I'm not completely caught up on current events in the world of Supernatural and I'm inclined to write the characters the way I want them to be more than how they're sometimes shown, so they might come across as out of character. I may also mess with the theology of the show. Just so you're aware.

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><p>PART ONE – ANNA<p>

Chapter One – Unexpected Miracles

_"Here goes nothin'."_  
><em>"Sammy! - Sam!"<em>  
><em>"I'm really sorry."<em>  
><em>"Anna."<em>  
><em>"Michael-"<em>

A scream tore from Anna's throat as the archangel's power burned her mortal form to ash before she could so much as take another breath. The price for going against heaven's plans, and all for nothing. She hadn't stopped Sam from being born, and there was nothing to stop the apocalypse from ripping the world to pieces except the battered wills of two human brothers. No matter how much she'd liked the Winchesters once, there was no doubt in her mind that the angels and demons would get their way eventually. No one could stand against such might forever. If only she'd been strong enough to stop it. If only she'd acted sooner.

The whisper of power that curled around her tattered, fading grace took Anna by surprise, but she didn't fight it. Even if she'd felt well enough to struggle away, there was something calming in that power, something that tugged at her heart and made it ache with longing. She let it take her where it willed.

So it was that Anna found herself drifting, wounded and weak, over a big white tent next to a country house in Nebraska. Prayers drifted up from the dispersing throng below; fervent, angry, disappointed, pleading, confused. Unsurprising. Familiar. They felt like an echo of her own weary soul. But there was faith there too, stubborn and hopeful and certain, if a little tattered around the edges. It seemed like far too long since Anna had felt faith like that herself. The warmth of it drew her closer, and soon she was searching out the brightest light among the thinning crowd.

It was one heck of a surprise to find that bright light in the presence of none other than Dean Winchester. Anna hovered, invisible and uncertain. He looked… young. He was grown up and all, there was a familiar weight of responsibility dragging at his shoulders, but the lines of his face were softer somehow and the spreading taint of desperation was nowhere to be seen. She winced a little, wondering how much she'd added to his burdens when she'd gone after Sam. They hadn't deserved that betrayal, but she hadn't seen any other way. Not that it had done any good in the end anyways.

"You know...I went back to see Roy," said the blond woman.

Discomfort flickered briefly across Dean's face, but he made himself nod. His usual bravado was nowhere to be seen. He wasn't faking bravery or cheer or even clinging to anger. It was… odd to see him in such a state of weary calm. "What happened?"

"Nothing." Layla settled gingerly on the end of the bed, meeting Dean's gaze when he sat down beside her. "He laid his hands on my forehead but nothing happened."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry it didn't work."

"And Sue Ann. She's dead you know? Stroke."

"Yeah I heard. You know Roy's a good man. He doesn't deserve what's happened." They were quiet a moment before Dean pushed forward, a mix of guilt and apology hidden in his even tones. "Must be rough. To believe in something so much, and have it disappoint you."

A gentle smile pulled at her lips. "You wanna hear something weird?" He met her eyes almost reluctantly. "I'm Ok. Really. I guess if you're gonna have faith...you can't just have it when the miracles happen. You have to have it when they don't."

He could only stare at her, but his resigned mood seemed to lighten just a little, and a flicker of something Anna was tempted to call awe slip into his eyes. "So what now?"

Layla shrugged. "God works in mysterious ways." She lingered, reaching out to touch his face. Then she stood. "Good Bye Dean."

Layla couldn't see Dean's face as she walked to the door, couldn't see the way he closed his eyes fighting pain and longing, but Anna could. It tugged at her heart, and made her wish…

"Hey," Dean stopped her, pushing to his feet. Nervous, a bit uncertain, he cleared his throat. "Um. Well... I'm not much of the praying type...but...I'm gonna pray for you."

And Layla's face lit up. "Well...There's a miracle right there."

The woman left and Anna stayed just a moment, silent and unseen, to watch the emotions flicker across Dean's face. Longing, loss, guilt. Wondering. Then she slipped out of the building, an idea burning bright in her mind.

Maybe she hadn't completely failed after all. Maybe she could still change things. She'd already broken most of the rules of messing with time; what were a few more? And this time she wouldn't do it at the cost of hurting her friends.

Layla didn't even question when Anna came to her and told her she was an angel of the Lord. Even before Anna told her she could heal her, there was a "yes" on her lips.


	2. Anna: A Step Ahead

The World Between

Prologue II: Victory

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><p>It had taken a great deal of sacrifice and effort, but Solas had gotten what he wanted in the end. The veil was gone, washed away as though it had never been, and his home once again stood whole and proud amidst the undiluted magic that flowed as freely as the spirits between the Fade, the "real" world, and the place between. He had woken the rest of the Evanuris and striped them of their magic before they could ruin what he had rebuilt. His elven followers, fade-touched by his own hand to help them survive the transition, roamed through the libraries and palaces, eager to learn and utterly free. They mingled with the spirits peacefully- if with a lingering wary reluctance that made him miss the most open-minded of his acquaintances. All in all, his plans had gone exceptionally well. It should have made him happy. Content.<p>

Perhaps he hadn't been as prepared for what victory would cost him as he'd thought.

The Inquisition, though it had given up its armies and officially disbanded, had been an unexpectedly poignant adversary. They had fought long and hard, not to kill him but to bring him back to the fold, to regain his allegiance. None had fought harder than the Inquisitor herself. Solas knew right up until the moment that she had believed that she could reach him, could change his mind right up until the moment he tore the veil asunder and the whole of reality buckled beneath the change. The most painful irony was that her belief in his friendship might have been the only reason he had succeeded. She'd been unwilling to seek his death until it was too late.

He wasn't sure he liked what it said about him that he was willing to make the sacrifice that she had not.

There was little point in entertaining regrets; he had replaced her world with his, and there was no going back. She was gone. They were all gone, aside from his students and those who had been trapped sleeping in the fade. It had been necessary. He had set the world right once more, fixed what he had broken. It had been _necessary_.

Solas frowned at the direction his thoughts took every time he went wandering the ramparts of the massive library alone.

"Perhaps I best return to my students," he mused aloud, trying to ignore the slight ache in his chest that there was no one there to answer. He'd gotten used to sarcastic quips from Varric or questions from Cole or sly humor from the Inquisitor somewhere along the way. Brushing the memories aside was not as simple as he had once imagined it would be. He shook his head. The memories would fade. "There is still work to be done. They have much to learn."

Had he stayed he might have seen the flickers of red light just outside the city walls where elven-made walls gave way to the hazier plains of the natural Fade. Had he stayed he might have been able to stop them in time.

Still lost in thought, Solas turned around and went inside.


	3. John: A Walk in the Garden

IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is _**completely**_ unrelated to Anna's storyline. Alternate universe. I really ought to finish Anna's series before I post this one and certainly before I post Gabriel, but I've hit a bit of a block on all things fanfiction and I'm hoping that posting what I already had written will help coax my muses out of hiding. Hope that doesn't confuse anyone too much.

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><p>PART TWO – JOHN<p>

Chapter One – A Walk in the Garden

_"Why are you saying this stuff?"_

_"I want you to watch out for Sammy, okay?"_

_"Yeah, dad, you know I will. You're scaring me."_

_"Don't be scared, Dean."_

Heaven wasn't quite what John had expected on the very rare occasions that he thought about eternity, but he'd take it over hell any day. He had his boys to thank for that freedom and the satisfaction of seeing Yellow Eye's death that finally let him rest. He had his boys to thank for a lot- and probably an apology or two to make- when he saw them again. And he _would_ see them again. John was determined to figure out a way to travel between individual heavens by the time his sons joined him there.

It really never occurred to him that either of them might end up in hell after everything they'd done, everything they'd given up to protect people- if _he_ got into heaven it was an easy assumption that they would too- so when an odd man claiming to be an angel pulled him from his heaven into a massive garden to tell him that both his sons were going to suffer through hell if the future was left untouched, he was understandably horrified.

Although threatening the angel delivering the message was maybe not the wisest thing to do.

"_What_ did you say?!" John growled, one fist clenched tightly around Joshua's collar. The angel's mildly chiding expression did little to sooth his temper.

"Your sons are going to go to hell," Joshua stated patiently. A wave of his fingers was enough to force John to still before he could follow through on his impulse to punch the angel. Joshua's lips twitched into an understanding little smile even as he gently pried John's fingers from his shirt. "_If_ the future is left untouched. Do try to focus, John. I'm trying to give you a chance to change things."

There was a moment of silence, then John he lowered his fists, barely noticing that the paralysis was suddenly gone. "What?"

"I can send you back. You can save your sons." Confident that he had Winchester's full attention at last, Joshua felt free to go back to sweeping as he spoke. The steady, familiar rhythm of his broom against the path fed calm into his soul even as he described the painful downfall of his brothers and sisters and his Father's beloved human race. He told a tale of death and crossroads deals, of demons and hell gates, of angels and seals and chosen vessels.

"They're determined to start the apocalypse now. It isn't time. This isn't how Father meant for it to be, but they stopped listening long ago." Joshua leaned on his broom and studied the human who would soon hold the fate of the heaven, earth, and hell in his hands. Despite being somewhat overwhelmed, fierce determination overshadowed everything else in John's soul. "Everything hinges on your family, your sons, which gives you the power to change things. But it has to be your decision. Do you want to go back?"

John didn't hesitate.


	4. Gabriel: Choosing Sides

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just a reminder, this is _**completely**_ unrelated to Anna's and John's storylines. Alternate universe. I love Gabriel's last speech and it was such a shame that he never got a chance to live up to all that potential. But hey, that's what fanfiction is for, right?

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><p>PART THREE – GABRIEL<p>

Chapter One – Choosing Sides

_"I've been riding the pine a long time. But I'm in the game now, and I'm not on your side, or Michael's. I'm on theirs."_

_"Brother, don't make me do this."_

_"No one makes us do anything."_

_"I know you think you're doing the right thing, Gabriel. But I know where your heart truly lies. - Here. Amateur hocus pocus. Don't forget, you learned all your tricks from me, little brother."_

Mercilessly Lucifer twisted the sword in his gut. It should have been the end. Gabriel could feel his grace begin to burn out, torn loose by the fatal wound. Or rather, it should have been fatal. The anguishing flare of pain certainly felt like dying, but when he tried to jerk free in instinctual panic, an unexpected burst of power surged at his call and Gabriel was suddenly free. An illusion died in his place, solid and real enough to fool even Lucifer so long as he was certain enough of his victory to not check too closely, and Gabriel fled.

He'd been hiding from his family for a very long time. Usually it was enough to throw up a few wards and masquerade as a trickster, but if he was ever really worried that someone was on his trail, he could do better. Most angels could time travel, given enough power or motivation, but Gabriel had learned long ago how to hover in that space outside of time; it made the perfect hiding spot.

So he hid and healed, left alone with his thoughts. They didn't make for very good company. He was mad at his brothers for dragging the whole of heaven, earth and hell into their argument, mad at his dad for letting them. He was mad at himself for getting involved when it almost cost him his life, and mad at himself for having every intention of going back and risking his life all over again. He'd meant what he said about choosing the humans. They were crazy, chaotic, messy, flawed little creatures, but they were worth saving. He'd rather not have it cost him his life though. He would have to be smarter about it next time; no more getting close enough for Lucy to gut him with an angel blade.

It was then, drifting along the edges of the time streams and wondering what to do that he felt a tug on his soul like he hadn't felt in a very, _very_ long time. He'd stopped listening, stopped waiting for any direction outside his own long ago. His Father had been silent, missing, and Gabriel hadn't wanted to hear anything from heaven. He'd surrounded himself with people and constructs of his own making, with illusion and chaos and noise, and he hadn't wanted to be shown any path but the one he was on. But things had changed. He had changed. Quite frankly, he was finally lost enough to be open to suggestions.

The faint pulling at his grace was nothing like the clear instruction he'd once had, but it was enough to wake his curiosity. He figured it couldn't hurt anything to check it out, at least.

Gabriel slipped back into reality some short time before he'd left it. He couldn't remember the last time he'd answered a prayer personally- he was an archangel after all; even when he'd been living in heaven that had hardly been part of his everyday job description. Still this- this was almost too interesting to pass up. He would never admit to feeling a tug of sympathy for the utterly forlorn desolation that drove Dean Winchester to pray.

Dean stood in the midst of wreckage. Old, broken cars sat in organized chaos around the yard while his far more broken brother screamed in the basement of the nearby house. Gabriel spared a moment to wonder whether he'd regret what he was about to do, decided that the look on their faces would probably be worth it, then snapped his fingers and appeared with a grin.

"Heya, Dean'o. Did ya miss me?"


	5. Gabriel: An Answered Prayer

PART THREE – GABRIEL

Chapter Two – An Answered Prayer

Dean's hand clinched around the neck of the whiskey bottle. He lifted it to his lips but didn't drink. The alcohol wouldn't help; it couldn't even soften the edges of the hollow inside him anymore. He lowered the bottle and tilted his head back, fighting tears.

It was too much. Sam and the demon blood. Lucifer. Michael. Bobby. Dad & Jo & Ellen & Ash. Hell. And Famine on top of it all, ripping open old wounds to expose the great, gaping hole that was practically all that was left of his tarnished soul. It too much- far, far too much, and he couldn't see any way out. There was no relief in sight. Famine was right; part of him already knew that they were going to lose the fight. He was out of options, out of hope, and desperate enough to turn to a God he wasn't even sure would hear him, let alone care.

"Please," Dean's voice broke and he closed his eyes, struggling for some semblance of control- begging the empty sky. The weight on his shoulders, on his heart grew heavier in the silence. "I can't… I need some help. _Please_?"

There was nothing, no burning bush, no miracle, no reply. That one last little hope inside flickered and died, and Dean cursed himself for letting the lack of answer feel like abandonment all over again.

Then he jumped, reaching for the knife in his belt as an angel appeared with a quiet rumbling of power, a mocking grin stretched across his face.

"Heya, Dean'o. Did ya miss me?"

"Gabriel," Dean breathed, unable to do much more than stare for a moment. _If this is God's idea of an answer, he's got a twisted sense of humor._ But even irritated wariness was better than despair, and he couldn't quite muster up his usual anger at the angel-turned-trickster. He was sure that would change soon enough. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know. Sight-seeing. Stretching the wings. Heard a prayer, and I just couldn't help myself."

Dean flushed pink at the realization that Gabriel had heard his little break down. And _there_ was the familiar anger. "Go to hell," he growled furiously.

"Now, Dean, is that any way to talk to your newest ally? Can you really afford to piss me off? I mean, you're kind of running short of friends as it is," Gabriel taunted. He had no intention of going easy on the Winchesters just because he'd decided to give them a hand. They were far too entertaining. The expression on Dean's face was priceless; he looked like he'd gotten hit in the head with a two by four.

"I- What?"

"Ally, Dean. Going deaf in your old age?" He smirked as Dean's eyes narrowed.

"What happened destiny and getting it over with?"

The archangel shrugged. "I like this world. It amuses me. Maybe I'm not so eager to see it all burn after all."

"Even if that means going up against your brothers?" Dean asked flatly, sharp eyes watching, weighing his response. Gabriel sighed, something serious slipping into his expression at last.

"Even then. I'm picking my side, going to bat for the home team, throwing my lot in with you losers. Feel free to shower me with gratitude any time now."

Dean didn't seem likely to do any such thing, but he'd put the knife away and for him that translated to a practically warm welcome. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, a subtle fidgeting that gave away his uncertainty. He might not trust Gabriel, but the angel had been right; they couldn't afford to chase him off if there was even a chance he was really willing to help. The trickster was far too fond of jerking their chains, but despite everything… Dean's instincts were leaning towards him being honest for once. Maybe, just maybe, it'd be enough to give them a fighting chance.

It was better than nothing.

"I don't suppose you have any idea how to go about stopping all this."

Gabriel grinned. "Why don't we go raid your buddy's pantry, and I'll tell you about the cage. Singer's gotta have something sweet sitting around." He slung an arm over Dean's shoulders and pulled him in the direction of the house. Dean shook him off with a mild glare but kept walking.

When they stepped into the house, the sound of Sam's distant screaming became clearer. Dean countenance grew grimmer, and he paused just inside the doorway, quiet a moment before he slanted a hard look Gabriel's way.

"If you're really on our side, help him."

"Who?"

"Sam," Dean growled through gritted teeth. "The demon blood- when he stops drinking it-" An anguished yell from down the hall illustrated his point better than words.

"Where's my please?" Gabriel smirked as Dean's expression tightened. It rather alarmed him though when something shifted in the hunter's eyes and he thought Dean might actually plead. Gabriel spoke up before he could. "Ah, I'll let it slide this once. Where'd you stash him?"

He turned away and didn't wait for directions. It was easy enough to follow the sound of shouting to the basement. Dean trailed close behind him.

Castiel was leaning against the wall near the thick, iron door of the panic room. It wouldn't have meant much on anyone else, but the downward tilt of his chin and in the slight slump of the usually stoic angel's shoulders spoke of heavy burdens, weariness and worry. It bothered Gabriel more than he would have expected. He'd hardly had any contact with the other angel either before or since leaving heaven. He didn't _know_ him; they certainly weren't friends. But they _were_ family, and Castiel was the only one of his siblings he might actually be able to trust at his back at the moment. Besides, there had to be something special under that uptight shell for the angel to choose humankind- or at least the Winchesters- over heaven and his kin and millennia of taking orders without question. That took guts- and maybe a touch of insanity; Gabriel could respect that.

Not that respect would keep him from enjoying messing with Castiel. "Hey, Bro!" he greeted as he bounded down the stairs.

The other angel straightened sharply, a fierce, protective wrath sweeping over his face. "Gabriel."

Dean hurriedly stepped between them before Castiel could do something foolish, like summon his angel-blade. "Cas, don't. He's here to help." Then, more quietly: "I think."

Gabriel sauntered passed them both and opened the door. He gave a low whistle when he saw the inside, impressed with the paranoia- or foresight- that had created such a haven. Or prison, as the case might be. Sam lay strapped to a narrow bed in the center of the room, thrashing in pain and pleading with invisible tormentors. Gabriel clucked his tongue.

"Well you _have_ gotten in over your head, haven't you." He poked at Sam's shoulder curiously, not entirely surprised when the younger Winchester gave an angry roar and pulled violently against his bonds in an effort to attack. There was an unhappy murmur from either Dean or Castiel behind him, but Gabriel ignored them. He circled the bed once, getting a feel for the taint within the struggling hunter. Then he summoned his power, laid a hand against Sam's forehead and pushed. Sam arched away from the bed with a yell as the stolen demon power in his veins fought briefly against Gabriel's control before he succumbed to the archangel's silent demand to sleep and collapsed, still and silent.

"Sam!" Dean gasped, rushing to his brother's side.

"Relax," Gabriel drawled. "He's fine. He should sleep the rest of it off in perfect peace. You're _welcome_."

One of Dean's hands remained splayed over Sam's ribs so he could feel him breathing as he checked his quickly calming pulse and took in his relaxed expression. Green eyes flickered to Castiel for confirmation before finally meeting Gabriel's perpetually amused gaze.

"Thanks," he said at last, the word sincere, if a touch reluctant.

"If you were really grateful, you'd feed me."

Cas' brow furrowed in confusion. "You are an archangel. You are capable of summoning food, and you should not even need sustenance-"

"It's the principle of the thing, brother dear," Gabriel chided even as he summoned a candy bar with a snap of his fingers. "Lighten up. Take some time to this world you're so hell-bent on saving. Here, have some candy."

Cas turned faintly green at the offering, still not entirely recovered from his vicious cravings for meat. "No thank you."


End file.
